


I Don't Do That

by Jethny



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breeding, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Self-Esteem Issues, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Size Queen, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Non-Penetrative Sex, Shy Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, sexual preferences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jethny/pseuds/Jethny
Summary: Geralt is insecure about his ability to satisfy Jaskier’s sexual needs as, regarding sex, Geralt doesn’t do itall the way. He has no idea how to tell his very-recent-lover how he feels about penetrative sex, afraid of losing Jaskier. But when foreplay in Geralt’s room at Kaer Morhen turn really heated, Geralt has no other choice but to try telling his bard. Jaskier’s unexpected reaction leads to another one of Geralt's insecurity.Or, Geralt has two problems: he doesn’t feel ready to bottom and he has a big cock. He’s afraid of losing Jaskier because of it. Jaskier only feels blessed and he’s keen to prove it to Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 289





	I Don't Do That

Jaskier’s playful mouth licks along Geralt’s neck and the witcher can’t help but moan and push his head aback to give the bard a better access. Sensible neck, one of his rare weaknesses. Too many intense sensations Geralt can feel and enjoy, and of course his bard _knows_ that. Jaskier knows about his witcher’s hypersensibility due to his mutations, and he likes to overwhelm Geralt with pure pleasure.

Jaskier brings Geralt’s body closer against his, grabbing him by the waist. He pushes Geralt against the wall of the room – and damn Jaskier still can’t believe he’s in _Geralt’s room_ at Kaer Morhen but he’s perfectly determined to show his fucking-finally-very-recent-lover how much it means to him – and suddenly, Jaskier slips a hand inside Geralt’s pants while still biting the delicate neck’s skin, and _fuck yes_ , Jaskier’s hand is now full of a firm and muscular witcher’s cheek he kneads greedily.

“Jask, wait… Jaskier- just wait,” Geralt pants, breaking Jaskier’s eagerness, as he wraps a firm hand around Jaskier’s wrist.

“Is- is something wrong, Geralt?” Jaskier seems worried, and he pulls back a bit to give Geralt more space, and Geralt can’t help but feel relieved when he no longer feels the warmth of Jaskier’s palm on his skin _there_ , and the witcher _hates_ that. He would like to be able to give his lover everything he craves to have, Geralt can smell how badly Jaskier wants it, but he cannot. Not yet. He’s not ready.

The bard’s pupils are still dilated with arousal and it’s hard for Geralt to refuse to give pleasure to Jaskier when he’s looking at him completely debauched, but then his minds remembers the feeling of Jaskier’s hand on his butt and his own discomfort is too high to ignore. He has to tell him.

“I… I don’t… do that.” His voice sounds terribly _weak_. Faced with the confusion and incomprehension Geralt reads in the bard’s eyes, he can’t find the strength to meet Jaskier’s gaze when he continues his lame explanation. He stares into the void when he speaks again. “That stuff, I don’t do that, Jas.”

“What? What do you mean?”

The witcher wished he couldn’t be able to smell the bard’s perfumed scent, which was full of lust and arousal before, change to worry and apprehension. And soon, Geralt knows it, this scent will be filled with pure frustration and _disappointment_. All because of Geralt's weaknesses and his inability to offer his lover everything he deserves.

Geralt takes a deep breath, before he answers.

“Fucking. The fucking part. I don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Surprise, confusion, apprehension, and tenderness, with a light taste of lust. That’s all Geralt can smell and he’s surprised. Then, he knows he has to do better than that for Jaskier to understand what he’s trying to say. But he feels… vulnerable. Words are so hard. He feels so much exposed and embarrassed.

Jaskier really doesn’t get it. Yes, them screwing is a very _recent_ development in their relationship, like a couple of days recent. But Jaskier is pretty sure he hasn’t hallucinated when three days ago he had his mouth full of Geralt’s very impressive cock sinking down his throat or when, after, Geralt had giving him the best heated rimming he never had the chance to receive in his whole life.

And that was for sure with Geralt that even more recently, _yesterday_ , Geralt made him see stars with his big, warm hand, wrapped around the bard’s erection, his other hand covering Jaskier’s moaning mouth to prevent all the other witchers from hearing how sexy _his_ bard sound in bed. The same Geralt that worn a timid smirk – but a smirk, the next morning when his brothers gave him shit about how loud his bard can be in bed and how loud _he_ can be too.

No, all of those events definitely _happened_. Or, fuck, the only explanation is that he had amazing sex with a doppler looking like his witcher, and that is a really creepy idea he doesn’t even want to think about.

“Uh. Geralt. What do you mean ‘the fucking part’? And what do you mean you ‘don’t do that’?”

Jaskier tries to be gentle, to not irritate Geralt with his lack of understanding. The bard tries to catch Geralt’s eyes, but the witcher keeps his head down, his gaze unfocused somewhere behind Jaskier’s shoulders, and he steps back from Jaskier’s body. He tries to ignore the hint of hurt he smells as he moves back. He fails.

Jaskier is kind with his words, he’s always so kind with him, but Geralt knows he has to tell straight away what he’s talking about or he’s sure of it, he won’t be able to breathe very soon. He must tell Jaskier bluntly what he means, now. So he does.

“I mean I don’t fuck,” Geralt answers simply, which left Jaskier even more confused.

“But, my love, we have already fucked together- we had sex, Geralt. Several times. So what—”

“No, we haven’t. I don’t do _that_.”

Geralt keeps saying the same unclear words but Jaskier has no fucking idea what he means. That makes no sense to him. Of course, they do have sex, and great sex.

“Geralt… I’m confused,” Jaskier tries again. “You mean… you don’t like it? Sex?”

“I like sex, Jaskier, you know that,” Geralt growls. “I’m talking about… hm, you know. The fucking.”

Geralt doesn’t know how to be clearer. The conversation seems to have lasted for interminable minutes and he feels stuck, unable to make himself understood once again in his life, uncomfortably waiting for the fateful moment when Jaskier will finally realize what a disappointment Geralt is.

“But seconds ago, my wolf, we were on our way to–”

“Not what I meant,” Geralt interrupts him.

Suddenly, it all makes sense in Jaskier’s mind. _The fucking._

_I like sex, Jaskier. I don’t do that. The fucking part._

“ _Oh_. Oh! Are- are you talking about _penetrative_ sex, Geralt?”

“That. Yeah,” Geralt confirms, sighing, lowering his head and moving back again from Jaskier.

“And you don’t… _do that_ , that’s it?”

“Yes. I don’t.” His throat is so hoarse, he can’t articulate more words. He is fucking _afraid_. Afraid of losing Jaskier, after having briefly tasted the best pleasures of the entire continent. He won’t survive to that.

“Well. Alright then.”

That doesn’t seem alright to Geralt, so he waits for Jaskier to say some more. Jaskier takes a deep breath, thinking. Geralt holds his breath and closes his eyes.

“But still we- I mean we have - you… Can I ask questions? To clarify what you like exactly, and what you don’t.”

That is not the reaction Geralt had prepared himself for. But sure, he will answer Jaskier’s questions, and then… Then Jaskier will really _understand_ , and the rejection will come.

“What questions?” Geralt’s tone may seem harsh, but it’s a bit of anxiety, some stress. A protection. And Jaskier really doesn’t like it. His Geralt, being unsecure and uncomfortable when talking about his tastes in sex with him, his _lover_. He should feel safe and know Jaskier would never judge him.

“My love, it’s very fine. You don’t do penetrative sex, well, that’s fine. I don’t care, Geralt, really,” Jaskier says gently. The sincerity Geralt can smell makes him looking up to his bard. And the bard is _smiling_. “Geralt, there are so many other things we can do, you know. But, well, yes, maybe we should clarify this a little, if it’s ok with you?” 

“Many other things?” The sparkling blue glow of Jaskier’s eyes makes Geralt lose track. His bard's words are nonsense. The witcher is destabilized, because not rejected.

“Yes, of course! Sex is… so not only penetrative sex. Melitele’s tits, it would be so boring otherwise!”

Jaskier is smiling again, and sincere, and when the bard makes a step toward him, Geralt leans in unconsciously to get closer too. He doesn’t get what is happening.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t- oh, alright. Very well. I’ll just start asking questions, then?”

“Hm.”

“Great. So. Is kissing ok?”

“Kissing?” This is not the type of questions Geralt expected.

“Yeah? Kissing, touching, caressing? Do you like it when I do that?”

And what the fuck are those questions? Is his lover doing it on purpose not to understand to upset him or what?

“Jaskier, what the fuck are you talking about.” Geralt looks pissed. Jaskier is damn lost. They are going nowhere.

“My darling white wolf, you just told me you don’t like penetrative sex, that you don’t _do that_ , so excuse me of wanting to prevent hurting you even more by touching you if you don’t like that in fact! I—I don’t want to do stuff you are not comfortable with, Geralt. I’m trying to understand what you-”

“Bard, listen.” Geralt's voice is sharp and cuts off Jaskier’s flow of words which make no sense to the witcher. “There is no need to treat me like a fucking delicate flower.”

“But-”

“I just don’t want to have a cock up my ass, damn it! That’s all,” Geralt grunts as his patience has run out.

“You...what?”

And that’s it. That’s the moment when Geralt has to push himself to form sentences with appropriate words, because maybe there is a chance that Jaskier will understand how he feels after all.

Indeed, the bard never ceases to surprise him, and until now he hasn’t been angry with Geralt while he has all the reasons to do so when Geralt keep proving his weaknesses and his inability to satisfy him. But Jaskier is always pure kindness and joy with everything Geralt says and does.

So the witcher tries to do the best he can to get his wits back together, and he starts to explain, awkwardly. Geralt tries to put into words what he's feeling deep inside, for so long.

“I don’t feel comfortable enough to… I’m not… I—I don’t want to do that. Not yet. I don’t feel… It’s too much.” Geralt doesn’t know how to express what he’s feeling when thinking about being penetrated.

It’s not that he thinks he will be weak or that he thinks less of people enjoying getting dicked, but it’s… It’s _intimated_. He doesn’t feel ready to reach that level of trust. He knows he will, one day, he’s curious about this aspect of sex, he _wants_ to experiment it, and he knows when he’ll be ready _it will be_ with Jaskier, but in the same time, he needs time to feel confident enough to ask Jaskier to be patient with him and to teach him how to enjoy that part of sex, because he’s not ready yet.

“Geralt.” He looks into his bard’s eyes. “I love you. For telling me what you’re comfortable with and are not. You don’t need to explain more if you don’t want to. I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to. It’s fine, Geralt. It really is.”

“Hm.” Geralt feels so shy now. It’s a disturbing feeling. He wants Jaskier to touch him, to comfort him, but he doesn’t know how to ask for.

“May I touch you, dear?” Jaskier reads his mind, as always. “I would very much like to assure you it’s all fine, and I think you may need some—”

“Please,” Geralt sighs, his voice breaking in a sob. If he could, Geralt would have blushed at his own sound.

“Oh, come here, darling,” Jaskier urges his lover, and the endearment makes Geralt’s heart jump in his chest.

Geralt rushes to Jaskier and the bard immediately hugs him, stroking the witcher's immaculate hair as he knows it has the virtue of soothing him. Jaskier tenderly kisses Geralt's temple before plunging his head into Geralt's neck, kissing the skin, before he goes to Geralt’s jaw, and Geralt’s soft lips, sealing their lips in a tender kiss.

“So, everything else…” Jaskier begins to ask.

“I’m fine with everything else, yes.” Then, Geralt specifies. “I’m not against… anal stuff. Just no… cock. Not yet.”

“Oh, darling, _not_ yet. Alright. That’s great information, thank you for telling me.” Jaskier smiles and kisses Geralt tenderly again “It leaves a lot of possibilities, you know.” And then Jaskier kisses him deeper, their tongues meet and things start heating up quickly, the kiss no more tender anymore but rushed with urgent need.

They undressed rapidly and they end up on the bed, rubbing their bare cocks as they hump against each other, Jaskier on top of Geralt.

“There’s another- possibility. About, _oh fuck_ , about the fucking issue,” Jaskier manages to say between kisses, bites and moans.

“Hm?” Geralt growls, intrigued, even if all his concentration seems to be in his erect cock and his hands which are playing with Jaskier’s ass.

Jaskier eases the rhythm, and he looks intensely into Geralt’s eyes before he speaks.

“You could fuck me. I _want_ you to fuck me, Geralt. Actually I’m dying of thinking about this very idea since the day I met you so… Yeah, you can fuck _me_. If you’d like, sweetheart,” the bard says, whispering the last words against Geralt’s lips, using his best slutty voice, his half-hard cock pressing against Geralt’s thigh to prove his words.

“No.”

Jaskier freezes, looking up at the witcher.

“No…?” His face is screaming of hurt, of shock, and yet, Geralt specifies his thought.

“I can’t do that, Jaskier.”

“You can’t fuck me,” Jaskier repeats. “You don’t _want_ to fuck me? Why the fuck no!” the bard shouts, losing his patience.

“Jaskier, Jask, you don’t understand-”

And no, Jaskier doesn’t understand a damn word of what his lover is saying, because all he can feel is rejection, even if he’s naked against Geralt, between his arms, and that they were having so much fun seconds ago, because all of it suddenly make no sense at all, as all his mind is hearing is _no, I can’t do that, Jaskier_.

“No, I don’t understand! I really fucking don’t, Geralt. And you know why? Because we have passed the last few days rutting against each other, I already have _sucked_ you once, you have _jerked me off_ , there was a time I came like a damn whore just humping against your thigh while kissing you, and then after, you made me come again using only your _tongue_ up my ass, but you – you, my fucking magnificent witcher whom I’m in love for years, you don’t want to _fuck_ me? Give me one fucking reason, Geralt, I’m listening!”

“I have a big cock, damn it, Jaskier!” Geralt shouts back. “A fucking thick cock that will never _fit_ inside your hole!”

And the situation could be ridiculous, the both of them naked in bed, half-hard, Jaskier on top of Geralt, arguing about who fuck who and _why the fuck_ no. But it’s not, because Jaskier is hurt and Geralt is anxious, and frustrated, because he wants to give Jaskier what he desires, but it appears that either way, he’ll either hurt his lover or hurt himself.

“We, witchers, we have… I… I _can’t_ fuck you, Jask! And it’s not because I don’t _want_ to know how good it feels to be inside your perfect ass, but because I don’t want _to_ _rip your body apart_! Because I love you. Fuck.”

Geralt feels exhausted, frustrated with himself.

“Geralt… my love, please, would you look at me?” Jaskier gently asks, contrasting with Geralt’s harsh tone, and he caresses Geralt’s jaw with his thumb. “Thank you,” he says, when Geralt does, and he places a light kiss on the witcher’s cheek.

“Jask, I’m sorry but I can’t… I can’t do that to you. I’m sorry–”

“You have no reason to be sorry for, Geralt. I thought it was obvious, but, well, I’ll say it, I’m not ashamed of it, fuck, I’m actually naked on top of you in _your bed_ , so I really don’t give a fuck: I fucking _love_ your cock. Your very, _very_ massive, long, and _thick_ cock. It’s perfect. It suits you, it suits your massive and muscular body. You have the most beautiful cock I could never dream of, my wolf.”

Geralt is now sure witchers can in fact blush, in appropriate circumstances, no matter what Vesimir told him when he was younger.

“But it’s—”

“—what? It’s huge? Damn yes, it is! And I love gagging on it because it’s so big. And I will be _delighted_ to be stuffed with that magnificent dick of yours. I or even better _you_ ’re going to pass hours opening me if needed, but I have zero doubt in the fact that it _will fit_. If you _want_ to, there is no reason to not do it.”

“Jaskier…”

“You’re going to stretch me so well, so good, so wide – oh fuck Geralt, I’m going to come so hard on your cock, again and again and – fuck, Geralt, how much come are you going to shove deep inside my ass? How much come can your balls contain, darling? – oh sweet Melitele’s tits, your gorgeous cock is going to give me so much joy. I’m going to be so _full_.”

Geralt’s look is unreadable when the bard is done talking. The witcher’s breathing is loud, fast. Geralt’s gaze is full of arousal and lust, and Jaskier doesn’t know if he needs to be worried or not, but he thinks for the no as he feels a rock hard cock, pulsing, wetting and pressing against his belly.

So maybe the unreadable look from Geralt was something like _what a fucking slut you are, Jaskier_ , and the bard is so proud. He’s impatient, excited, randy. He never wanted a cock so badly in his life as he does at the moment.

“Move on your fourth. Now.” Geralt groans, startling Jaskier.

“Oh _fuck_ , yes, Geralt—”

Jaskier has the damn impression he’s going to be eaten alive by Geralt’s hungry mouth and – oh really, that’s exactly what happens to Jaskier’s hole, Geralt licking it, loosening it, and filling it, with his tongue, fingers, and cock, again, and again and, _yes_ , Jaskier feels so damn _full_. Full of his witcher’s come. Full of Geralt’s warm, huge cock, pulsing inside his hole, making Geralt’s semen flowing out of it, dipping down along Jaskier’s thighs as Geralt keep fucking him.


End file.
